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Unpolished Ink Aug 2023
USB
His headphones fit in ears
that haven’t listened for years
I spend most of my time
looking down at my phone
which is marginally better
than feeling alone
mass communication
has fulled our isolation
once love was a rocket
now we only connect
at the USB socket
Grace James Aug 2023
I see strangers on the Internet
talk about healing their inner child.
It made me go inward.
Think
and think
and think.

About little me.
Three, five, seven years old.
What she wore
what she ate
what she watched on TV.

How she danced,
twirled on and on
without a care in the world.

And as I saw her in my mind's eye
and felt her in my soul,
my heart was filled with a Great and Terrible Sadness.

Oh, how I've failed her!
I've abandoned her laugh
her warmth
her light.

I traded her valiance for fear,
her voice for silence.
Her smile and bright green eyes
for a dull film over too-pale features.

Oh, my poor, sweet child.
I am endlessly sorry.
I have failed you.
Failed you.
Failed you.

Those strangers on the Internet
want to heal their inner child.

But now
I wonder...
Can my inner child heal me?
Francie Lynch Aug 2023
There strolls another father,
Scrolling while his daughter
Rides her stroller as they stroll.
He really oughtn't scroll,
She's awake as they stroll;
It's a stroller, not a scroller.

The purpose of a stroll,
Is to walk and talk the prattle,
The speach that infants rattle
While strolling in their stroller.

Sing to your child,
Stroll all the while,
Hum or whistle,
Mumble……..Grumble;
But don't silently scroll on,
While strolling with the stroller.

Recall childhood rhymes, if you can,
Say the ABCs or count to ten;
Talk of little piggies and brazen toads,
Meaningful memories,
And yellow brick roads.

Enjoy your strolling.


Enjoy your scrolling.
It's true. They walk by my place.
A sheep in wolves clothing
With that fake I.D.
May be the most
Dangerous of them all
It doesnt make me
Suspicious of you
Just afraid you'll get
Eaten alive
My mind went dark for a bit. Be careful out there.
David Cunha Feb 2023
Time skips in between screen time emptiness
Mind's fuzzy with the traffic sounds
Eyes blinded by the flashing lights
Hands struggle to reach something pleasurable, at least,
As the heart beats excited for the minute-lasting serotonin blast

The hair grows an inch each week,
The numbness comes in days and leaves for a couple hours by bits,
The blood's rage meets the grinning face of guilt,
And the will to change is temporary.

What will it be when I'm 70?
What will change in me?
What will it be like when I'm not me?
And if I'm not me, who else should I be?
Why should I care for the fate of the world?
Why can't I be cozy for 20 years and die alone, slowly?
Why do I have to get up in the first place?
Why do I have to belong to the human race?
Racing indefinitely
Pretending to wear the shield of bravery for someone else's dream-****-like-fantasy,

What are all these brands and all these bands of crows?
Eating fleshless people with money for bones
Why is the circus always in town?
Why does the TV lie?
Why does the Internet lie?
Why do the people who run our money lie?
Why do the people who run us lie?
Why is it all so fake and sly?
What is all this bellyful hunger?

What is it that I can't grasp?
Is our nature really all that nefast?
If this is peak humanity, why should it last?
- David Cunha
february 8, 2023
4:00 p.m.
neth jones Aug 2022
the immersion in media
i feel weaponized
part of an inhuman condition
a heated communal militia head space
gilded with fear but splintered of opinions
sperming             in  a  holding  pattern  
like fish in a overpopulated aquarium
we're stunning ourselves on the sides
batting at it to for an expansion
frenzy of communication
but other life continues
seemingly untainted
indifferent
certainly
see !
the
birds
aviate
and i feel
there is reassurance
the worlds life will outlast us
what's the worst that we could do ?
we'll  not  be    taking  it  to  our  grave ;
a pharaoh      tombed with ornamental company
neth jones Aug 2022
please-please   add your waxy scrolls
   truths   to the panic pyre
madden   an inflamed swarm of intelligence
worm warrens    into the collective of our brain
maybe
   having been riddled
      it'll collapse under the corrective strain
      and start blinking a genuine signal
process recognized    compassionate inkling
(46 words)
CJ Jul 2022
Fire up your talk boxes
Life’s such a bore
Until we discover
Today’s Rage du Jour

Do we have to turn Red
if they’re feeling Blue?

Does screaming more loudly
make it any more true?

Is it fate we must hate if
They want to make it great?

Must our faces turn redder if
They want to build back better?

What if we hear different voices?
And what if they make different choices?

Do we choose to lash out
always feel justified
As our fears turn to rage
and we’re bloated with pride?

Who among us sees clearly?
Whose judgment is never astray?

What great one among us holds just the right viewpoints
to keep cyber pitchforks at bay?

He said sinless stoneholders
could fire away
Yet there’s rocks hurling
constantly every which way

Can’t we sew up our lips
and ***** up our our ears
and realize there’s much
we can learn from our peers?

It’s hard to see it through our spite
But life is rarely black or white

Whatever happened to nuance?
When did we lose the gray?
How did this digital mob get the power to police every last thing we say?

There’s a whole vibrant world in 4K
We’re all welcome to come out and play
Let’s not label them Other
When they’re truly our brother
Only Kindness can show us the way
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